Yours Truly, Erik
by Starrylibra
Summary: not very good at summarys. eriks diary. his true feelings are inside and does he think the diary is a real person? yeah awful summary RR what you think EC:D chptr 3 up
1. Chapter 1

**Yours truly, Erik**

A/N ok this first chapter is my prologue and it just has background information on Erik and stuff… it's like a mini story kind of… enjoy. And review :)

Disclaimer – I own only the plot… kind of… well you know anything that isn't recognisable I will show you the patent thing I have of owning it. So there :P

Prologue

I had been to hell. Or so it seemed. My pitiful existence had mostly been in the travelling fair. I was in the freak show.

'Come see the devil's child!' It wasn't fair. It was torture. I _was _tortured. One night I just could not take it anymore. After the "show" I untied the rope, which was keeping me trapped in my cage, and I hanged my "master". I showed no remorse. I grabbed the musical box I was making and a young girl took me and hid me in the opera house she lived and trained in. I was in heaven; I was free! Heaven turned to hell again when the girl – who's name I found out to be Antoinette – led me deep down to the buildings catacombs.

She left me and I found somewhere sufficient enough to sleep. I thought Antoinette would have left me for good but the next day she came down with food, drink, clothing, pillows and sheets and a warm blanket, a few books for entertainment and many candles. Indeed it was the beginning of a large collection.

Over the next few weeks and months, I collected many pieces of building material to turn the place into my lair, my home.

I had read so much as a child. When the public weren't watching my every move - mostly me being whipped – and pointing and laughing I would be reading some book or another. Mostly I stole them from gypsies with turned backs or somebody would leave one behind after the previous nights fair. Not one person felt pity, compassion.

Although I never had a proper education in a school or a private tutor, I learnt soon that I could turn my hand to anything if I put my mind to it. I could play the piano, violin, flute, harp, clarinet, bagpipes and most other instruments you can think of.

I could be an architect or I could be a magician. I could be a composer or I could be an author. I could speak English and French. I could speak German and some Latin also. I would be admired so… if I weren't such a monster.

So, after about a year I had perfected my lair. I had made myself a black metal swan bed with velvet sheets and pillows and lace curtains for privacy. I had made a gondola and oar to cross the lake, which wasn't very deep, but I didn't want to always get wet. I had turned it into a proper apartment with different rooms and after exploring I had found out that it was actually quite large. I sculpted many holders for candles and I had many where the lake finished. I made lots of traps to keep people out and also a gate that came down and I could pull the lever to operate it. It was sort of homey and the darkness suited me well.

Four times a week Antoinette came down to me with lots of food and drink. I had no idea where she got it from but I never asked. Sometimes she would stay for a while and admire my work and talk with me. Other times she left quickly saying she had not the time to linger, or else saying nothing, not even hello or goodbye.

So it was for a few years. I was lonely but I was safe. I started wearing masks to cover my repulsive face. The most common was white porcelain one that covered the right half of my face. I left the safety of the opera house more often and although people were curious as to why I wore my masks nobody ever asked and nobody could ever see my deformity and harm me.

I felt more secure with a mask and one would rarely leave my Face.

I matured, the older I got and learned that prudent silence was wise. Not to Antoinette with whom I was quite close with in a restricted way – she was more like a guardian then a friend, a guardian angel – but to anybody else who questioned why such a young lad was out by himself etc.

I learnt to improvise with what I had but I didn't need anything or anyone apart from my music. My music. I had made an organ and I composed and played all day stopping only briefly and rarely. It went to waste though as nobody could hear me play. I was far too deep town and nobody but Antoinette knew I was there. She heard sometimes. I was a genius in her eyes.

One day as I was out, a very peculiar thing happened. My mind was deep in my music and I accidentally walked into an alleyway I was not familiar with. A beautiful kitten was there and I could immediately tell that she was hungry and needed a home desperately. It was raining heavily and her lovely fur was drenched. I had suspicions that she wouldn't last long, living the way that she did. I picked her up, took her back to my underground lair and nursed her back to health. Thankfully Antoinette didn't mind finding extra food and I didn't mind my new companion.

I was happy. Almost. For still my heart yearned for human company. Ayesha tried hard and was a good friend but cats can only go so far friendship wise. I wished I had friends – lots of them. Friends that understood and adored me. They wouldn't back away just because my face was different. They just accepted it and it didn't matter.

Of course I was wise enough and practised enough to know that it would always matter and it would always hold me back. Upsetting as it was, I just learned to accept that fact. Secretly, I wished of beauty and heaven but there was no God who could love me and care for me enough to grant me my wishes.

In private I would also teach myself how to use a sword skilfully and a Punjab lasso as I had first murdered somebody by hanging him. It was purely for self defence should the need ever arise and it was useful to know.

When a girl a couple of years younger than me came to live in the dormitories upstairs I would keep a watch her quietly like _her _guardian angel. Whenever she sang in her soulful voice full of grief I taught her and told her how to improve and sing without the grief.

I also started blackmailing the manager. He gave in and eventually gave me twenty thousand francs a month in salary. The first month I was paid, I gave Antoinette half and thanked her for everything she had done to help me. I said that I no longer required her assistance even though I appreciated it and she was still welcome to come and visit me whenever she wanted. She did so seldom.

I bought music books to compose in and a writing set also. I bought a wax seal marker in the shape of a skull and became known as the infamous "Phantom of the Opera" or "OG – Opera Ghost". I would always sign notes with _OG. _I put the rest of my money away each month in savings only taking out what I needed for supplies.

When I had just left teenage years that young girl who I had helped was and was a ballet rat, bloomed. She was very pretty and very artistic. I had no idea of the effect she would soon have on me.

A/N And that is my story I know it is short but I thought it important to get that out. The next chapters will be in a different format (see if you can guess by my title) and should hopefully be a lot longer. The dates will be a bit awry but please don't complain, as they would be near enough. I'm basing this on the film not the book by the way. I remain ladies and gentlemen, your obedient author, _SL (starrylibra) :D _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N this is the next chapter I hope if there are any readers, they like it. But thank you to the people who actually have reviewed, I really appreciate it. And by the way my Erik is _not_ going to have a wig. The gorgeous black locks are his own!

Hina, lol, I'm glad you still love me ;) and you are mean you were actually meant to read it. :'( and don't worry I'll have your autograph :D I never got to sleep round yours this summer :-( (if that doesn't scare you, then nothing will :( ) oh well we will in the half-term and we can go to London this time too :D Fanfiction will probably ban me for this :( but oh well. Aww your girlie skater is so cute! You should go out with him. Anyway, moving on.

PhantomGrl1870, I'm sorry if I got your name wrong this is on my computer in my room and I have the internet blah, blah downstairs so I can't check. Thank you for your review! I was really nervous I was so sure it would be somebody screaming at me for having such a bad idea etc. I'm glad you like this and I hope this chapter is to your taste. I can't wait to continue reading your story.

Disclaimer: I barely own the plot anymore for once so I'll change my disclaimer. I own only the diary. And his hair. Hmm… oh yeah, I am also the proud owner of the phantom of the opera DVD. I am happy I got it. Yay!

Anyway… enjoy.

**Chapter 1: _A new companion?_**

22:32 organ 30th October 1870

_Dear Diary,_

Today I have been touched by an angel. Quite literally. I found out that the artistic ballet rat is called Christine. Christine… oh what a lovely name for a lovely young woman. I have never felt this way before about anybody. My heart yearns for her – I am in love! But first, I will write of my day. Oh what a day!

It started as normal. I sat in the rafters watching the practice below. La Carlotta in Hannibal. Still, it was quite good. Without even my assistance Carlotta decided shortly after Lefevres retirement announcements, that she too would be leaving. Maybe they were lovers. . . Even though she is meant to be with that obese fool, Piangi. Unfortunately, my new managers, Messieurs Gilles Andre and Richard Firmin managed to persuade her, with the help of Monsieur Reyer, to stay. There is also a new patron, the Vicomte de Chegny; a foppish young man in dire need of a haircut.

But anyway, the bossy toad (hmm, maybe I could use that on her one day if she comes back) started singing – and killing - "Think of me". It sounded as though _she_was being killed! I wonder if it is punishable to murder a song so brutally? I couldn't take anymore, nor could I wait to find out. I noticed that some others below me were wincing and a few elders had put cotton wool in their ears. (NOTE: buy some earplugs and USE THEM when you know Carlotta is going to sing) I loosened a backdrop that fell trapping her. Many ballet rats screamed and Antoinette's nosy daughter audibly said 'He's here, the phantom of the opera!' as I swirled my cape and disappeared through a hidden door, I smiled.

I heard vaguely, the accusations to that awful Bouquet man; 'Please monsieur, as God's my judge I wasn't at my post. Please monsieur, there's no one there. And if there is, well then, it must be a ghost. He laughed and I smiled. He may be stupid but he was right.

I dropped a letter that Madame Giry found and I went back down to my lair. (By the way, after the little "accident" Carlotta left! Madame Giry suggested Christine Daae sing. My Christine… I didn't here her though.)

I hurried around, making sure that everything in my lair was perfect. Tonight would be the night. I would show Miss Daae to my lair and she would agree to marry me. I made a dummy that looked like her so I could make a wedding dress that would fit and I could see whether or not it suited her. Upon finishing, I smiled for my work was pretty good. I put my masterpiece (yet another one) in a small cove and covered the entrance with a red drape. Jealous of what I was doing, Ayesha had gone out in a huff.

I still had a few hours left before the performance so I decided to play some music on my organ. I played and played slow melodies of love then I went to my "bedroom" and picked out an outfit for this evening. I chose a black suit with a deep purple cravat. I brushed by hair and put on my white mask.

Eventually it was time and I found out that that insolent little boy had taken it upon himself to sit in box five. Usually I would say something in the middle of a performance but I didn't want to risk upsetting Christine or ruining her chance at playing the lead. I went back down to my lair rather annoyed and paced the tunnel. I soon recognised the tune of think of me. And then, I heard the singing of an angel. It was her! My Christine. She sang so wonderfully that I stopped and just listened.

After her performance she went to the small chapel – the first room I ever came to upon entering the opera house – and lit a candle for her father. I waited a moment and then started praising her. _Brava, Brava, Bravisma. _Then that stupid Giry girl came and ruined things. _Christine, Christine! _Christine…_ Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?_ And so on. But then – and I couldn't believe my ears – Christine was talking about an _Angel _helping her! She thought I was an angel of music! Then she sang about knowing I was there which I thought was odd. _Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here. Here in this room he calls me softly, somewhere inside hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me – he the unseen genius. _Well there is no denying that. Then that Giry girl sang again. Then _my _angel. _Angel of music, guide and guardian grant to me your glory. Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel. _I would have stepped out of shadow and greeted her if that wretched blonde wasn't there.

I hurried back to her dressing room and behind the mirror. Soon she came in with Antoinette who told her she was very good and _he _was proud. Christine fingered the single red rose in black satin that I had left there for her. Madame Giry left and Christine sat at her dressing table. I opened my mouth to whisper her name but the door opened again and the fop was there talking about some "Little Lotte" Christine seemed to understand as she joined him, her eyes lit up. He told her to get ready for supper but she declined saying the angel of music was very strict. Maybe that was just an excuse. I don't know, heck this is confusing! He just laughed like the girl he is and walked out. I looked the door as I didn't want anybody else barging in and ruining my plan. Then I made the candles flicker out in the whole of the opera house. It looks pretty impressive – it took me _ages _to learn how to do that but it was worth it!

Anyway, I started singing something about the fop being an insolent boy basking in her glory. I nearly said insolent girl. Then I told her he was sharing in my triumph. She started singing about me being her angel again to which I rolled my eyes to the heavens (if there are any, which is not so as any god, has ever helped me. I mean for god's sake ((God being the operative word)) an angel? Me? that's about as likely as me and "Raoul" – the Vicomte – getting married!) and about hiding no longer. I couldn't wait any longer so I told her to look in the mirror. She did so and gradually saw me. I held my hand out for her, which she took. As soon as she did some dramatic organ music I made up an age ago started playing (or that might have been in my head… most probably).

As we walked down to my lair hand in hand she began singing about the Phantom of the Opera being there inside her mind. I wanted to tell her that I was real but I just went along with it and sang my bit. Then she had the cheek (ha, ha) to sing _those who have seen your face, draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear _so I sang _it's me they hear. _The song continued and then she started singing really high-pitched cadenza that sounded good. I encouraged her with _sing my angel, sing for me, _etc, etc, etc. When I got out of the boat she stayed put and I sang about how I brought her to the seat of sweet music's throne where everyone has to play homage to music.

Afterwards I started singing my music of the night song and I took her from the boat showing her around. Everything seemed to be going well and she seemed to be seduced by me. But when I showed her the dummy and wedding dress the stupid girl fainted. I hadn't even finished my song! I caught her and continued anyway, carrying her to my black swan bed. I laid her down in it and pulled the lace veil down. I went back to my organ slightly discouraged at her fainting business. That is when I started writing this. But now I can speak more about Christine, the love of my life. Although I have been writing for about two hours and my hand _hurts! _But she is worth it. She is so beautiful. Would you like to know what she looks like? That was a stupid question, of _course _you do! She has beautiful brown locks and the most beautiful deep brown eyes that you could just drown in! her skin is pale and perfect, and though she is quite tall, when she was standing in front of my I could rest my chin on the top of her head perfectly. She _is _perfect! And I love her.

Oh, I haven't even told her my name. But then again, she didn't ask. Is that because she isn't interested in me or because she was so much in love with me she forgot to ask? I want to wake her up to talk to her until late but I couldn't do that. It _is _late now. Past midnight. So I think I will bid you farewell for now. I shall right as soon as I wake up.

I guess I will have to sleep at this bench tonight as I do not have a spare bed and it would be so ill mannered to get into bed beside Christine. Once we are married we won't have this problem. I can't make her live down here though. She deserves a proper house with plenty of maids and servants. I could afford that. I have saved up the 20,000 a month I have been getting for ten years and now the two new managers have grudgingly agreed to give me 40,000 francs a month. And when we move out I could get a job as a musician or something in an expensive restaurant or somewhere that would pay well. Christine would have the rich, comfortable life she deserves. I know for a fact the beds like the one she sleeps on upstairs are not comfortable at all! I can see it now, all our little children running around the garden. They wouldn't look like me. We would have lots of mini Christine's. Many a beautiful child. And our wedding day! Oh it would be wonderful. Nobody who came would forget it in a hurry. I would of course invite Antoinette and Christine would have Meg to be her bridesmaid. Maybe I could get Ayesha to walk down the aisle with me and have our rings on her velvet collar. Maybe not… I know she would never do that, even if she _does _come back to me. She's like that, whenever we have an argument she will runaway for a few days then come crawling back. I would always take her back as she is my companion. But now I have a new companion. I still won't forget Ayesha though – I love her, just not in the same way. In our new house she can have her own room and she will have her own personal butler. Ok, _now _I am getting ahead of myself. Christine doesn't even know my _name _yet.

What am I doing? I said half an hour ago I would go to sleep. Ok, I will. Goodnight.

Yours truly, Erik

07:10 Organ 31st October 1970

_Dear Diary,_

Good morning. And happy Halloween. Nobody in the opera House celebrates or even mentions Halloween, which suits me just fine. It is a silly childish event. Oh I slept fine. That was sarcasm. I fell to sleep easily as I was very tired but my neck couldn't _be _in anymore pain! But I couldn't care less. Because soon I will speak with my precious angel. I will talk over yesterday with her and maybe apologise for scaring her with the dummy. I admit it would be rather freaky to see that but I _needed _ it to be like that as I already explained to you yesterday.

As you can probably tell, nothing much has happened today since I have only just woken up. Well I checked on Christine first and she is still sleeping soundly. She looks so peaceful when asleep. I watched her for a while but soon left in case she awoke and thought I was some weird pervert who watched her sleeping all night. Which isn't true. I checked on her _once _before going to sleep because she might have woken and required something.

About that house thing. Would she want a massive house? It is what she deserves but maybe she would be happy in a small cottage or something. You could get that for about 20,000 francs. And we would have so much left over to spoil her and for other things. To be honest, I am doubting the work idea. I don't really want a 'what is behind the mask monsieur?' everyday for the rest of my life. And I would rather me and Christine stay in or go out together everyday. I don't want to leave her by herself – she might get lonely. I could get a part time job just to help us along a bit. I _really _haven't thought this through. Oh _god _I only want her to be happy but what if all I do only makes her upset? I will ask her what she would like so I can do my very best to make her as happy as she can be. I know she hasn't had a great life. She was orphaned at seven and she loved her father dearly. She was lonely here; the other girls didn't try there best to make her feel welcome. Her only friend really was Meg. I can change this, her young adult life wasn't great but adulthood will be wonderful. Oh god. Ok, I am frowning now. She is awake and singing about what she remembers. She will disrupt my writing for a bit but then I will write again about what happened. If she will indulge as such.

Yours truly, Erik

09:00 Organ

Dear Diary,

I am shy now. Christine is looking over my shoulder sometimes. I don't mind I am just self-conscience about my handwriting. She just laughed and said she loved my writing. So when she came over to me she started singing about who was that man in the mask blah, blah. She put her hands on my face and as I didn't know what she was going to do I didn't pull away. Well I suppose you can guess that was a big mistake. She pulled off my mask. In my rage, I pushed her other and came up with some odd names such as little viper, lying Delilah, prying Pandora and such as. Then as always I began to sing. _ Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look? Or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell but secretly, yearns for heaven secretly, secretly, Christine… Fear can turn to love you'll learn to see to find the man behind the monster. This revolting carcass that seems a beast but secretly, dreams of beauty secretly, secretly. _

She silently handed my mask back. My worst fears confirmed it seemed. But then she whispered, just audibly, 'I don't think you are a revolting carcass who seems a beast.' That made me kind of happy. But then she said 'Maybe you are just a little misunderstood,' Misunderstood? What a joke, nobody has ever come close enough to me so as even _try _to understand me. They are all prejudice. They believe and _understand _what they want to about me even though they know nothing! (By the way diary, I wrote that in a shouting sort of way.) Christine got up and walked over to my organ. She sat next to be on this bench/ makeshift bed that only wants to murder your neck (still hurts by the way!) and looked through my music sheets. She picked out some she liked the look of and asked me to play them. I obliged and for a while my home was filled with sweet music. Then I remembered my manners although nobody had ever really taught me them, and I offered Christine a drink and some breakfast. She accepted. We got to know each other a bit better. She really is just as nice as I thought she would be. After breakfast I found a dress I had made and gave it to her to put on as she still had a dress from Hannibal on. It fitted her perfectly of course and looked wonderful. I also apologised for scaring her with that dummy. I told her that I liked dressmaking and I needed to make a dummy to make it easier. I said that I thought she was so pretty it seemed only right to use hers as the head of the dummy. Also that her hair was beautiful so it would flatter any headdress I ever made. She smiled and blushed and apologised for fainting but she was just a bit shocked and she was like that. She said she was really flattered also.

She thinks it is adorable that I write a diary. I think it's adorable that she _doesn't_ write a diary. She has an amazing laugh too. It's so lovely and perfect. Just like her… Oh I forgot she was beside me. She is blushing. I probably am too. She told me earlier that my music was so wonderful I should bring it together and write my own opera. I couldn't do that, could I? Maybe I should give it a go and then bring it to my managers so they can get everyone to perform it. Maybe I should! And Christine could be my main character. I will get straight to work on it. Tomorrow. 'The lead role? I don't think I could do that. I am not even a good soprano!' Bless, so modest. So I said 'don't be silly you have the most wonderful voice I have ever heard –' 'apart from your own,' she butted in. that definitely made me blush! That patronising girl just pinched my cheek! How dare she. Maybe I will cast Carlotta as the lead. Christine you may laugh now but you won't be when I only cast you as an extra! But still, I guarantee you will have the role of Countess in Il Muto tonight. Carlotta can be the pageboy – the silent role.

What is the time? 10.24! 'Christine I have to take you back now. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you.' 'But I don't want to go! I like it here. Can't I just stay for a small while longer.' 'No' 'but' '_no!' _'Fine' 'I hope you aren't to upset. You can come back soon just not now, they will think you have been kidnapped!' 'Ok than, if you promise.' 'I do' She came closer to me and then kissed me! Not just on the cheek, a proper kiss! My first. It was fantastic! It is ok; she has gone back to _her _bedroom for a moment to make sure she looks decent. When does she not? Oh gosh, it is amazing how much I love her! She must like me too. It is too soon to tell her how I feel though. After all, I don't want a repeat of last night. But now I must go and return Christine. I will write of the rest of my day tonight after Il Muto.

Yours truly, Erik

A/N Yay my first chapter. I hope it is long enough for you, nearly 4,000 words. And also, like I said this will be an EC pairing. If you have a problem with that, I suggest either you do not read this or you read it pretending Erik is Raoul or Andre etc – whoever you prefer _or _you can just read it anyway. :)

Well goodbye, until next we speak. I like being authoress. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N I am trying to update this fast with long chapters. And as I write, my previous chapter hasn't even shown itself on fanfiction yet as I only put it up this morning. I'm on a roll! Or so _I _think. Thanks for all the great reviews I hope you enjoy this chapter even though it has taken ages to write! By the way, this Erik isn't masculine; it's just Erik; a lonely man in love, his one true companion (apart from the cat), a diary. Therefore he treats it like a friend even if that isn't masculine at all. Thank You Come Again!

Disclaimer: I own… whatever I said I did last chapter. Ok I think I will stop with disclaimers now, I only need one.

Previous entry: _You can come back soon just not now, they will think you have been kidnapped!' 'Ok than, if you promise.' 'I do' She came closer to me and then kissed me! Not just on the cheek, a proper kiss! My first. It was fantastic! It is ok; she has gone back to _her_ bedroom for a moment to make sure she looks decent. When does she not? Oh gosh, it is amazing how much I love her! She must like me too. It is too soon to tell her how I feel though. After all, I don't want a repeat of last night. But now I must go and return Christine. I will write of the rest of my day tonight after Il Muto. _

_Yours truly, Erik_

**Chapter 2: _Disasters and Second Chances?_ **

22:30 organ (when is it not) 31st October 1870

Dear Diary, 

What have I done! I can't honestly say I regret the whole murder thing (more on that later when I get to it) but I don't think Christine was happy about that. Christine… oh _god_ have I ruined my chances with her? She certainly seemed to prefer that "Raoul". But with Carlotta, she laughed, she really did! And oh how her eyes lit up like they do, it was worth poisoning the _toad _just to see Christine laugh. Ha, I _said _I would use that toad thing on Carlotta one day. One day turned out to be the next day. I feel mixed up. I _have _to speak avec Christine immediately. That may not be an option so I will just write to you about it first.

When did I stop writing…? Ah yes. I took Christine back to her dressing room the way we came, not keen to use any other route just in case. I left her inside (not before she hugged me close and we said our farewells) and returned to my lair to write some intimidating notes. I heard Madame Giry and her daughter enter Christine's dressing room _just _as I had left. I hurried away and when I returned, I scrawled letters to Messieurs André and Firmin, the Vicomte, Carlotta and one for Madame Giry to find and give to one of the managers.

Then I took a short rest on _my _bed. It's amazing just how comfortable it is compared to the organ bench! When I awoke I ventured outside of the opera house and using a scarf to cover my face instead of a mask (I could get away with this as it was bitter cold outside) Strolled to the nearby market and bought some fresh fruit. Then I went to the jewellers and bought a beautiful white gold ring with many crystals. The ring cost 1,500 francs and was worth every penny as I am sure Christine will love it. I even paid extra for a velvet heart shaped box. I next went to the florists and bought a dozen red roses as I had used my last on Christine yesterday. That reminded me that I needed to purchase some more black ribbon also.

When I returned to the opera house I heard a small group of people – from what I gathered consisted of my managers, Carlotta (_DAMN, I forgot to acquire some stupid ear plugs!) _and Raoul and Madame Giry in different locations. They were singing about Prima Donna. From what I deduced, the world wanted Carlotta and _she _would be the Countess. Furious, I stalked back to my lair. I had _made sure_ that they knew that I wanted Christine to play Countess. So, they thought to mess with the phantom of the opera did they? I would make them very much so regret their decision!

I got dressed and spent the rest of the day reading Shakespearean sonnets. A whole book of them. It was very interesting. Or in other words, time consuming. But that is what I wanted. When it was time for the performance I noticed that yet again that _stupid fop _was sitting in box five without a care in the world. Already annoyed, I decided that I would not stand for this. I hurried up to near the ceiling well hidden behind the chandelier, and waited. After Carlotta had finished her ho-ho-ho-ho-ho's, I made my voice boom out **did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty? **Yet again Mademoiselle Giry whispered 'He's here, the phantom of the opera!' Then Christine… Oh Christine! She murmured 'It's him' Carlotta heard and said 'your part is silent little toad,' perfect for my plan, for I had already poisoned the liquid, which she used to help with her voice, so that she would croak. 'A toad madame? Perhaps it is you, who are the toad' she ignored and used her crimson liquid. After minimal waiting, she started to sing again: '_you cannot speak, but kiss me in my _**croak' **it was most amusing. Then again, '_poor fool he makes me laugh ha-ha, ha-ha. Ha-ha _**croak, croak, croak.' **She ran off stage and inside where the rafters were I was silently laughing. Little did I know that the stupid Bouquet man was following me for some queer reason.

Firmin announced that they would continue in 10 minutes when none other than my wonderful Christine Daae would be playing the Countess. Well I did promise her she would. I had already placed a fresh rose in her dressing room. A stuttering André declared that the meanwhile the b-b-b-b-ballet would be taking place. I had previously seen and quite enjoyed it. When I found Bouquet he seemed to have changed his mind at wanting to find me. our games of cat and mouse – me of course being the mouse – were fun but soon the cat trapped his prey. I suffocated the man then tied my rope around his neck. I dropped him down and it took a couple of moments before some spinning rats realised. Everybody was screaming, and then I dropped the corpse down below.

With a swish of my cape I moved away to find where Christine had got to. Raoul found her first and she took him away saying they were not safe there. I followed them as the ran up some steps to where I knew would lead them to upon the rooftop. They broke into song. But it wasn't really interesting – well the _if he has to kill a thousand me, the phantom of the opera will kill and kill again _amused me as she didn't even know me well enough to tell. But then she started singing the bit I did before music of the night except with her own lyrics:

_Raoul I've been there, to his world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness. Raoul I've seen him, can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed it was hardly a face, in that darkness, darkness. But__his voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound. In that night there was music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar. And I heard as I never heard before.' _

**That face so distorted deformed it was hardly****a face! **When I called her a lying Delilah I was right. That two faced **bitch **lied to me to make me happy. How could she door that? But wait, it gets even better:

_Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world. Those pleading eyes, that both threatened and adored. _She was getting alarmingly close to the statue behind which, I was hiding. Then the fop started his bit and they started a cheesy love song that I won't even waste my time writing down. They did not realise that I was there listening to every word. She had even dropped my rose leaving it forgotten like she had me. Then they proclaimed their love for each other and kissed. Their song also made me assume that she was a little bit frightened of the dark too.

But none of that mattered. For she didn't love _me, _she loved the stupid fop. How could I have been so stupid? Surely I should have realised straight away that somebody as wonderful (ha she's about as wonderful as my abhorrent face) as her would never love a man with a "face so distorted it was hardly a face" such as myself. It hurts so. Literally my heart aches and yet again I find myself yearning for her. She **_will _**be mine and we **_will _**marry with or without her consent. It is destiny. We are meant to be together and I just know it.

Even after tonight I am willing to forgive and forget and… well, maybe it isn't me who should be forgiving. _"My god who is this man, who hunts to kill?" _that is another phrase she sung. Maybe I was the only person happy that Joseph Bouquet was dead. **What is this! **This woman is making me feel _guilt _now? _My _god _who is this woman, who hunts to torment? _But maybe, I will give the killing a rest. And I _do _have to sort things out with Christine I don't think she likes the idea of me being a murder. Well that is hardly my fault is it? She should have thought about that before she sought friendship (and maybe, _hopefully _much more) with the Phantom of the Opera. I have just had an idea. I shall act as though I do not know that she is in love (not when I'm finished with her, I got her to kiss me the first time we met!) with the fop who is in dire need of a haircut. I will act as though I did not overhear their conversation or well actually song… and I will see what she is like. If she pretends nothing happened and strokes my horrible face and tells me she loves me than I shall know she really is a two faced bitch. But if she tells me the truth…

Let us just say that I would be hurt but I can trust her. And forgive her. And she can forgive me. We will marry and live together. Again, about that house thing, I was thinking… maybe we could be happy in just a big flat. After all, who needs stairs? Stairs are just a waste of space. And it would also save a _lot _of money. Neither of us would ever have to work for the rest of our comfortable lives. Still, I _really _haven't thought this through. I shall have to talk to my beloved about it a little while after I propose. That is another thing. I have never proposed before. Nor have I seen anybody else proposing. I can turn my hand to anything but this romance stuff is pretty much an exception. Should I just give her the ring? Should I get down on one knee? Should I say would you marry me? Should I write it in red roses or maybe arrange candles to ask it? I'm in way over my depth here. You aren't exactly helping either! What the hell would you know you stupid notebook? When have you _ever _known anything? Gosh, am I going insane? No, no of course not. It is just this love for Christine; it is really getting to me.

What if that fop has proposed to her? What if they are together right now! Whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. Or even worse, _singing _to each other! No! I cannot allow that. I have waited to long for this moment – **all my life! **–And just because some _Vicomte _decides that he loves her also (which isn't surprising I mean come on, _Christine!_) I will not lose her. I refuse to. I do_ not _take failing well, at all. That night I first showed myself to Christine, he was ignoring her objections completely. She deserves somebody who listens to all she says and relishes in her words. Not laughing a stupid girlie laugh and walking out. What is the world coming to? Fops these days, honestly!

It is getting late. And I can't bear to think of my competition and misfortune any longer.

I bid you goodnight diary. I apologise for saying you don't know anything, earlier. I was lying. You are very smart and helpful and I am so glad I have you. Night, night.

Yours truly, Erik

01:43 organ 1st November 1870

_Dear Diary,_

Happy All Saints Day. Ha-ha.You know I don't believe in religion in any form. It was a good joke though wasn't it? Wasn't it? Well somebody is moody tonight. It isn't me. I am happy, happy, happy, happy, happy. And maybe a little bit tired. And intoxicated. It is nothing. Maybe I had a glass or too of champagne. Huh? Is that even how you spell too? I don't no. Well I do no something for sure as hell. I have my second chance. I'm not exactly what it's for. But second chances sound good. I love Christ

12:00 organ 3rd November 1870

_Dear Diary,_

Ow. Why does my head hurt? And why did I wake up on the floor? Oh, I just re-read what I had written last night. Stuff is coming back to me. oh _god_ Christine is here. That reminds me. I do **_not _**love Christ. I already said I don't - oh hello Christine dear, I was just writing about you. Ok maybe I was supposed to _say_ that. Maybe it will be easier if I just get her to read my diary.

That is what I have done. And for the record I meant to spell "too" two. And my second chance is with Christ. No wait, Christine. Am I still a bit wasted? No, my head hurts too much. Thank – I don't know, thank _god_? – Christine's laughter is soft so it doesn't hurt my head. That is another thing though. I do _know _that **know **is spelt exactly as I just spelt it. Am I really that stupid when drunk. And if a glass or two is a bottle or two than I was telling the truth… Ow head hurts. I hope you don't hate me for that joke. I thought it was quite funny. I mean, actually pretending I _care _whether it is a saints day or not…

Well anyway. I found Christine in the chapel yesterday and put my plan into action. Oh does she know about that yet? Oh good I told her yesterday – phew that could have been awkward! She told me she loves Raoul as a friend and when he kissed her she just obliged. She didn't want to ruin their chance of friendship and tell the truth. **_Or_**, she could be saying Raoul when secretly she means me. The look in her eyes is telling me no. She really _does _love me! But what about all my problems? Don't worry Christine honey it's nothing I was just talking about my head. And neck. And just about every other part of my body. Yes, I suppose a massage would make me feel a little bit better…

It may not be professional but my _gosh_ she does a good massage! Even my neck has stopped hurting and it has been aching since October 30th! Ok so she wasn't best pleased at my performance on Il Muto night but I got her to admit that Carlotta's toad act was funny. She still scolded me. But it was worth it.

We stayed in the chapel till late just talking. Then I stole a couple of bottles of champagne from the kitchens and celebrated my success of winning back Christine's love (and also planning and starting my opera Don Juan Triumphant) in style. Which wasn't very stylish. I now realise this; it caused me to fall unconscious at my organ, making it look like I loved Christ, slip off the bench causing me to bang my head very hard on a nearby candle holder and stay asleep on the cold hard moist floor below me. So to say not very stylish is a _bit _of an understatement. Well this paragraph has very much made Christine laugh. I'm glad _somebody _finds it amusing.

I wonder where Ayesha is. I'm starting to miss her. She is my cat; I have had her since she was a kitten, Christine. I love her. The cat not you. I mean, I _do _love you but at that precise moment in time I was talking about Ayesha. She went off in a huff because she was jealous of you. No, it isn't your fault. She will come back soon. She always does. Whenever we fall out. But she cannot survive on her own so she uses me. If she was here, she would have scratched me until I awoke last night so I could get to my proper bed. Oh well. It's ok now. No lasting harm.

Did I mention that I didn't sleep on the 31st even though I said I was going to? Well it is true. I couldn't sleep. Well I didn't even try. I just wandered around for a couple of hours than I made up a new song. It shall go in my opera. I made up lyrics that go perfectly with it too. I call it: Point of no Return.

I just showed and sung it to Christine she loves it. I wish _you_ would say something constructive. That would be nice. But you are not. I am tired. Lack of sleep. I am going to sleep and I don't care if Christine is here, she can just go. Or alternatively she could just look around my home and stuff. I have some books to amuse her with. Books that _are not _my diary. I don't trust her. I'll put you underneath my mattress when I go to sleep so she cannot get to you. _As if I would_ she says. Yeah right I can see in your eyes how curious you are to see what I could possibly write down that fills up such a large notebook (you are a disgrace, so fat. You should be ashamed). Well I tell you now, my love, mostly I write a load of rubbish. And I know _you _are desperate to reveal some of my secrets you deceiving book. I should lock you away. Or sleep. Sleep sounds good.

Yours truly, Erik

22:56 organ (I don't even know why I bother to write that anymore) 3rd November 1870

Dear Diary, 

I would have written yesterday evening – or night as it so often is – but I was kind of… tied up. When I awoke at about 3:30 Christine was still here. I really expected her to have gone but I am glad she was here. The only criticism I have of her is that she will read my diary, well, you, over my shoulder even when I _don't_ want her to and as I am too polite to say anything I just have to put up with it. But no matter, when we are married everything we possess will be each other's and I will allow her to read my diary. Now is hardly any different…

But anyway, so Christine was reading some Enid Blyton book she had found, when I went over to her. I _swear _I have no idea where that book came from. Nor have I ever even seen it before, let alone read it. I put my hands other her eyes and said 'guess who?'. She thought for a moment then mockingly replied 'erm…Monsieur Reyer? I chuckled at her and she turned around and kissed me. I could get used to that sort of love…

So then she went into the kitchen area and came out with a plateful of _fruit salade_. There were apples and bananas and grapes and all sorts arranged ever so nicely. I sat in an armchair with Christine on my lap and we ate some fruit. Every now and then I would feed her some. It was probably the best moment of my life.

I got my 20,000 francs about an hour after I told Christine to leave. We both know that she can't stay here for long. Search parties would go out looking for her, not to mention the fop. He would probably foolishly try and duel with me. I, of course would win. I _always _win. After all, I did get Christine back even though I murdered that man (remember when I said she wasn't best pleased, that was an understatement, I actually feared she would do something _very _harsh. She hit me over and over again, she through my possessions, she knocked over candles and she looked like she was about to rip up my music book!). But she still came back to me with apologies and sweet smiles. And I lapped it up like when Ayesha drinks her milk.

I might go looking for her tomorrow. She could be in danger or maybe even lost. We don't want that now do we. I shall explain to her that she is the number one girl in my life, always has been, always will be. Christine is merely a human and with Christine and I together we could give Ayesha even more love. Or if all else fails, I can bribe her with lots of fish and milk, and lots of cat toys including string.

Not a lot else happened. Being bored, I decided to return to my organ and write some more of my opera. It is coming along nicely. I aim to have it finished by the New Year's masquerade. Then, I shall give it to my managers and they will be forced to show it and put Christine in the lead.

I look forward to seeing it performed. But for now I shall sleep. Goodnight, sweet dreams.

Yours truly, Erik

00.00 chapel (ha! Somewhere new) 4th November 1870

_Dear Diary,_

I had a lovely dream last night. My guest for the masquerade, was Christine. We danced all night long and then we came back to my lair and sang to each other for an age. Then we went to bed and… well let us just say my imagination got the better of me last night. Like it usually does. I don't know what my brain is thinking, **_before _**marriage! That would be most improper!

I stayed in bed until mid afternoon. Christine came down at about 14.00 and I was still in bed. She kicked her shoes off and climbed in. My breath caught short. She nuzzled up to me and it really felt as though I was in heaven. We fell asleep; her in my arms, and when we awoke at about 16.00 I picked up the courage to ask her. _Christine… do you want to, I mean I would **love **it if – but you don't have to, would you like to, err, have dinner with me? _I bet you thought I was gonna propose! As much as I would love to it is too early and I would probably just scare her off. It's a wonder I haven't already. She laughed while I blushed scarlet and agreed. I told her that I would be at her dressing room to escort her to dinner at 18.00 sharp. She smiled and said she had to get ready. Then she rushed up to me and pecked me lightly on the lips. I love her, I _really do! _Just in case you didn't figure that out before.

I got ready and decided that I would take her to a lovely restaurant I had heard good things about on the banks of the Seine. After all, that is kind of romantic isn't it? At five minutes to six I started on my short journey to my angel's dressing room. The time when I got there was 10 seconds to. I waited until the exact right time and then walked in. My angel glanced at a clock and smiled when she saw how punctual I was. I held out my arm for her, which she took. Oh by the way, did I mention how beautifully stunning she looked. Well she did. Her gown was baby blue and she had a midnight blue cloak to go over it. I was wearing a boring old suit, quite similar – but with a different shirt – and a blue (coincidental) cravat.

I led Christine out of the Opera Populaire and got a carriage to take us to our restaurant. My first date avec ma ange. In the back of the carriage, Christine leaned against me and I talked to her about my opera. She even suggested to me some ideas of plot lines. I was intrigued, her notions were interesting and I liked them very much. Then we got to the restaurant named _La fleur rose. _

Upon entering, I took Christine's cloak and hung it up in the cloakroom. After getting a table, I pulled the chair up for Christine then took a seat for myself. The evening went smoothly and after dinner we went for a stroll along the Seine. _This has been a magical evening Erik, Thank you. _Nine words. That is all it took. Nine words and my heart swelled and filled with emotion as I never felt it before. I pulled her in close for a passionate kiss only puling away reluctantly for breath. We continued on our saunter along the riverside, hand in hand. An old woman walked past us and cooed about young love. I smiled at Christine who returned it and cuddled close to me.

It felt all too soon when the clock struck 23.00 and I decided (against my will, but listening to my better judgement) that we should head back. We decided to walk instead of getting a carriage and it only took half an hour. I escorted her to her bedroom and was parted with another passionate kiss. _Thank you. _she repeated and I merely replied, _non mademoiselle, thank **you**. _I left but decided to grab you and write inside the peaceful opera house chapel. I lit all the candles and began to write. I began to write about a day.A day where my disfigurement didn't matter and I felt actually loved. The best day of my life. For tonight, I roamed with angels.

Yours truly, Erik

23.14 Organ22nd December 1870

_Dear Diary,_

Well it is about bloody time! I haven't abandoned you for Christine, do not worry. You are still my number one. (God I am sad…) I have been searching for nearly two months for you. Ayesha came back the day you went missing. I went to tell you about it and you had gone! Disappeared, just like the magician, that came to perform here, for one of his acts. Panicked, I practically turned this lair upside down looking for you. I gave up after five hours and stared at the tip that was my home. Christine came down and saw the tears in my eyes. She asked me what was wrong so I told her. She said that she would buy me a new notebook – the most beautiful one in Paris. But I didn't want another – I wanted _you_. I will never replace you dear diary! Knowing how much you mean to me, my beloved helped me look for you for the rest of the day. We gave up at about 19.00. It was obvious you weren't here. It didn't register that Ayesha wasn't helping or anything. She must have done it in jealousy. For she thinks I prefer Christine to her. I tell her everyday it is not true and I spend three hours a day just Ayesha – Erik time. She thinks I'm doing it to trick her into thinking she is my number one girl even when Christine is. This is not the case. 

But I think she did it because she knows you're the most precious think I possess. When I found you tucked neatly in a crack at the bottom of Apollo's Lyre I sat down and laughed. I go up to the rooftop every night. I didn't even think of looking there. Typical Ayesha to hide it somewhere so near to me yet at a place I would never look. She is very intelligent.

She's lucky that nothing too eventful happened this past few months otherwise I would have swung her into the lake by her tail:). Don't look so shocked I am joking. Even I can jest. I would have only dipped her in for a moment or two.

I took Christine in a few more dates each much better than the last. I shall propose to her after the New Years Bal Masque. I have it all planned out:

_As the crowd slowly disperses through each exit I take Christine by the hand and take her to my lair. Along the passageway I will make it brighter and decorate it with flowers. The ground will be laden with red rose petals. As we turn the corner to the lake I will hear her soft gasp as she notices it. Small flower shaped candles floats atop spelling out; Mon ange will you marry me?_

_Nearest to us on the bank will be Ayesha with the ring tied on her collar (whether she likes it or not), looking cute. I will turn to Christine after taking the ring from Ayesha and get down on one knee. Her face will burst into a smile as she accepts. That night we will for the first time make love and it will be beauti-_

No. Once again my imagination gets the better of me. If she accepts than obviously we will marry and then it will happen. No sooner then that! I don't know what I am thinking. It is probably all these years of loneliness and finally having the chance to show somebody what it means to be loved.

In any case, I cannot wait for New Years. It will not just be a new year, but a new beginning also.

And now I must go and escort my beautiful fiancée-to-be to dinner.

Yours truly,

Erik

A/N voila, finally the next chapter. It took me so long because I did about 9 pages then I had to go and never got round to finishing this. I ran out of ideas of what could happen so I just lost the diary to get to the masquerade faster. Yep, next chapter. And If I didn't than this wouldn't be up until next millennium and would be 40,000,000 pages long! Anyway, please review, I love to read them: D

And I don't mind criticism if it is constructive. Please no flames. Danke Schun.


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